


The Ache of a Secret

by Lestire_Iillas



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: D/s if you squint, Masturbation, Nonbinary Character, Other, Trans Character, i was going to tag 'quiet sex' but it's solo so, i wrote this very late at night, porn with a surprising amount of plot, shh it's a secret, this dragonborn doesn't know he's the dragonborn yet, what's the tag for that, with race politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 09:49:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7217638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lestire_Iillas/pseuds/Lestire_Iillas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naladhir, an anxious mage among the brash and courageous Companions, contemplates his only fellow Mer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ache of a Secret

It had been a while since Naladhir had been around other Mer. Between the Imperials of Cyrodiil and, more recently, the Nords of Skyrim, he had worked more closely with Men than his kin for several years. Of course, it wasn’t that he minded Men. He did his best to avoid aligning himself with the Thalmor and other Mer with oppressive, supremacist values, and most of his life had been spent actively trying to rethink what he’d been taught along those lines. But, that didn’t stop him from finding a bit of solace in the company of someone who felt a little closer to home.

He’d joined the Companions mostly out of a lack of coin and a need for a bed, and wasn’t entirely sure why they’d taken him in after hearing some of their remarks about mages and witches. His little initiation duel with Vilkas had been the first time he’d picked up a blade in years, and he kept it at his belt now mostly as a precaution, a backup for if his magic failed him. He’d meant to go do the Jarl’s bidding and chase after that stone tablet, but he’d gotten wrapped up in the whirlwind that was the Companions, between hunts, battles with the Silver Hand, and sitting quiet by the fire at Jorrvaskr, slowly learning the words to their drinking songs.

For all his expeditions with the twins and Aela, those evenings that bled so easily into night were, more often than not, spent wishing he could think of something to talk about with Athis. _The Companions_ , he thought. It was ironic, since only having joined them did he start to understand how much he yearned for companionship.

Rationally, what was there to entice him about the Dunmer? Athis had done little but offer him an underhanded insult and sit by, staring into the distance while Naladhir was accepted into the faction. He had no idea about Athis’ opinions on him, since he’d scared himself away from any conversations they might have had. The Mer could hate him for all he knew. He could be put off by the presence of another Elf in his Nord-heavy life, or, worse yet, resent him for being Altmer.

Naladhir realised he was overthinking, as he lay half-drunk and readily exhausted in his bed in the shared quarters below the hall. From the sounds of it, the rest of them were asleep. Athis was just across the room, his bare back to the open air, and face to the wall. Despite his worries, it was so easy to imagine sitting up and walking, silent with his bare feet on the cold stone, over to where Athis slept - or, perhaps he woke yet - and being offered a place beside him.

_I could curl about him,_ he thought, and then his breathing stopped for a moment, _or he could hold me with those strong arms, hold his chest to the skin of my back -_

Naladhir bit his lip. Then he made a decision. Working quickly, he hiked up his robes and undid the ties on his leggings, slipping his left hand between the layers until he could slip his middle finger shallow into his slit. He pictured Athis easily spreading his legs over the furs of his bed, sword-calloused fingers busy between them, whispering for Naladhir to keep quiet for fear they wake the others. He thought of Athis’ cock, hard and flushed, of how long it might be and of the Mer giving it a few merciful drags to tend his arousal, and Naladhir’s thighs twitched in agreement.

The Altmer added a finger to the light circles he made about his clit, working them quickly and dipping them into himself to make them slick. He wondered if Athis might hold his shoulders down to bite and suck at his neck, his jaw, and - _oh_ \- he likely understood how to reduce a Mer to burning coals by playing with their ears - far better than any of the Imperials he’d had fumbling encounters with in the past. Might be Athis would take a solid fist full of his brown hair and force him still while he lavished attention of Naladhir’s ears. That thought made him stifle a little cry and bring his free hand up to pinch the pointed tip of his right ear, making like his nails were teeth.

His hips raised, pressing hard into his fingers, and he went back to the Mer’s cock, of Athis lying heavy atop him and aligning himself, of feeling the wide, leaking head at his entrance. Naladhir decided Athis would be thick. His right hand joined his left under his robes and felt how incredibly wet he was, reaching the tips of three fingers in a little way, thinking desperately of them as Athis’ ready length, and thrusting them, as the Dunmer might do, to loosen himself, penetrating ever so slightly deeper each time.

With no one really there between them, Naladhir’s legs were nearly closed. His muscles were tense and he was tight in search of friction, both his hands moving fast and hard, impatient and wretched for release. His mind was full of Athis’ penis slamming into him, of his body being steadied by the Mer’s strong hands but being shaken still by the force of Athis inside him. Naladhir wanted so badly to awake sore and used and covered in evidence of him. He held his breath, body taut as a bow drawn back, the fingers of his right hand pulsing as deep as they could go. He came, Athis’ name soft on his lips.

Just as he had stopped shaking from the intensity and dried his hands as best he could on the furs beneath him, there was a rustle from across the room. A hoarse, tired voice whispered out, “Naladhir?”

He froze. Athis waited a moment, then spoke again, “Did you say something?”

“No,” he managed, eyes wide and thoughts on little but the mercy of the gods, “I didn’t.”

He heard a sigh, and moments later Athis’ breathing evened out to something more sleeplike. Naladhir let out the breath he must have been holding, even as he ran over the way Athis had said his name, wishing the Mer would say it more often.

**Author's Note:**

> I regret everything. Probably to be continued.


End file.
